


The Stone Statue in the Courtyard

by karathegoddess



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisiton
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female Cadash/Varric fluff, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, POV First Person, PTSD, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Doom Upon All the World, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Violence, wholesome ending, worried Varric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:46:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23694109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karathegoddess/pseuds/karathegoddess
Summary: Cadash reflects on her time as Inquisitor and has trouble coming with to terms with the fact the final battle with Corypheus hadn't gone the way she had prepared for. Her favourite writer and fellow quipy dwarf stands by her side to help her get through it.
Relationships: Female Cadash/Varric Tethras, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Kudos: 9





	The Stone Statue in the Courtyard

The statue looked at peace. Obnoxiously so. The statue showcased a woman. Beautiful. Her chainmail was chiseled in stunning detail. Both hands gripped the hilt of a stone longsword on her chest. The real sword hung on a rack near my bedside. Her hair was carved to be loose and flattened where her head rested on the stone pedestal. I knew it by heart, but I still brushed the powdery snow off the embroidered plaque that labeled the hunk of rock.   
BLESSED HERO ANDRASTE  
BELOVED WIFE AND HERO OF THEDAS  
MAY THE MAKER HOLD HIS WARRIOR SAFELY IN HIS ARMS.  
Did she even think for a moment what her supposed actions inspire in people? The way they make people believe. The way they make them hope. I was no Herald. I was no hero. I wasn’t someone to believe in. Just an old Carta thug, with no place to be.   
I could still remember the way Corypheus glared at me, flesh shriveled and dried like a raisin left in the sun too long. The way he sneered at the thought of me trying to protect Haven. The arrogance in his voice as he claimed he was a true God and would slaughter anyone who declined to Worship him.   
I could still see the angry twisted expression on his decayed malformed face. The red lyrium that protruded from his chin shuddered every time he spoke. I had officially cemented Corypheus as an enemy when I kicked that trebuchet and brought the mountain down on Haven. Corypheus’s delicate ego wouldn’t rest until he either killed me or I killed him.   
The more victorious battles I claimed over Corypheus, the more the people joined me to help stop the Elder One. More people, the more battles won. The more battles won, the more people seemed convinced I was the Herald. Enough people are so positive, so sure. Even close friends like Dorian. Even as Varric, the person who meant more to me than I could ever describe in mere words, flushed several shades of red as he admitted he believed I was Andraste’s chosen. It made it difficult to so adamantly refuse the title.   
I shivered, blinking a snowflake from my eyelashes. My pink fingers felt numb after I brushed the newly fallen snow from Andraste’s cold stone face. Her eyes were closed as though she were in a peaceful slumber. I wish I was that peaceful. Was it weird to be jealous of rock?   
You know what? Screw Andraste. She had no right to be at peace. To just lay there and sleep after dumping her job on me. After telling me that after everything I had given to create this Inquisition-this army of loyal men and women. After creating lasting friendships, sacrificing good people, and even after finding love, I still nearly died!!!  
Fuck Andraste and her Chant!  
I balled my fists and slammed them on her chest. The force stung from the points of impact down my wrists to my shoulders. I winced and regretted my outburst immensely. The exertion rattled my new wound. My left hand instinctively guarded my abdomen.   
For a moment, I was back on the battlefield. I could see Corypheus’s wild eyes as he lunged forward. The panic rising in me as my sword stabbed through his ribs. The cool metal sinking into my flesh. On closer inspection I realized it wasn’t a sword, but his abnormally long sharp fingers. Three of them piercing my abdomen. This was it. I was going to die. I’m so sorry, Varric. I’m fucking up your last request before I went to fight. Just be the stone, just imagine the stone- Wait, why was my hand so cold?   
No. No, no, I was at Skyhold. Deep breath. I was okay. I was safe. Deep breath. Even while disoriented, my hand found it’s way on Andraste’s statue. The temperature of the minerals was painfully frigid. But I found, I didn't want to take my hand off. Despite that my hand was an alarming shade of red and I thought it might fall off. The icy rock felt real. Solid. Grounding.  
“What are you doing out here, Salroka? You still shouldn’t be out of bed. Besides, it’s freezing. Do you know what cold does to stitches?” Varric asked. I pulled my hand away from the statue as he hurried over. He wrapped a thick cloak around my thin silk garment. I peered up at him, his tan skin glowed in the faint moonlight that emanated from behind the dark clouds. Although his voice sounded of playful scolding, his big chestnut brown eyes expressed concern.   
“No, do you?” I raised my eyebrows. Varric’s silence was an answer in itself. He didn’t really know what he was talking about. He tried to suppress his contagious giggle.  
“I mean, I don’t know the extent, but I can’t imagine it’s any good!” He insisted. I winced at the way my diaphram shifted the fresh wound on my stomach.   
“Salroka-”  
“I’m okay.”   
The last thing he needed was to worry about me. Varric had been appointed by Kirkwall to be the Viscount or something. How that managed to happen while he wasn’t even present was beyond me, but as much as he complained about it, it was obvious that he was elated at the chance to go home. Varric had even worked out a whole speech and argument to convince me to move to Kirkwall with him after everything. It caught him quite off guard when I had agreed without any goating needed. He fiddled with the cloak, making sure it was covering me as much as possible.   
“We talked about this. Honesty when it comes to how you’re feeling.”   
Did I want to burden him? No, of course not. But he always wanted to know when something was bothering me. It had taken a while for me to even understand why I didn’t like to confide in others. Part of it was because I was the Herald of Andraste. The Inquisitor. It would be damaging for our people to see me burst into tears because I had to make a hard decision. If the people saw one of their leaders falling apart, figure head or not, the damage would be irreparable.   
Another reason being, I hadn’t really had anyone to seek comfort in before. The only person in the Carta I ever confided in was Lantos. And even that wasn’t always the best for either of us, Stone forbid my Mother found out about our attempts to escape.   
Varric however, never ceased to amaze me. After every battle with Corypheus, I’d go around and check in with every soldier at Skyhold. Make sure everyone was okay. Besides that I needed to make sure I could see the faces of these people when I had to make a tough call. Not just group them into cold calculations. Whenever I finished, no matter how long it would take, often days even, Varric was always waiting for me in my Quarters. He would just give me this look.   
“So how are you holding up?” The first time he asked was actually at Haven before so much had happened. Then he asked after Haven was destroyed and I brushed him off with a quip exchange like I always did. He never pressured or demanded an answer, just made it clear he was an available listener. But post battle, every battle, he’d wait in the same spot on the couch at in my room and ask again. Until after a particularly bad battle. Adamant. Things went pretty south and I recalled looking Warden Stroud in the eyes as I told him to kill himself. To have to know after everything he did to save himself and the Wardens, I told him to stay behind and die. My facade of a decisive leader crumbled into a million pieces when I reached my room to see Varric lounged on the couch as usual.   
“How are you holding up?” I lost it. My legs ceased to function and I told him how I was holding up. By a thread or so it felt. I let everything unravel and Varric patiently allowed me to. Only interjecting a few times at all the right moments for sympathy or advice or a joke that always managed to make me smile through the tears.   
Varric was someone I could talk to. It was just hard to remember sometimes.   
“It’s-I just… I thought- I was going to die.” I said, Varric waited patiently for me to elaborate. “You said it yourself, I have divine bad luck. So I was so certain I was going to die and I was terrified. Terrified I wouldn’t be able to hang out with Dorian or hunt a dragon with Iron Bull. Scared I wouldn’t be able to play pranks on swanky nobles with Sera.” I peered up at Varric. “Terrified I wouldn’t ever get the feeling of waking up in your arms again.” He took my hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze. “I was so scared until I came out here. To Andraste. To her statue. To this fucking statute.” I said giving the stone a meek kick watching my exhale cloud up in the bitter cold.   
“Did she help?” Varric asked. I glowered at Andraste.   
“She helped me accept my mortality.” I admitted, “It-it doesn’t make sense, but if I got too overwhelmed, too scared, I’d uh imagine myself as the statue. Just like her, laying down. Sleeping in stone. Forever at peace. That brought me a lot of comfort, I couldn’t tell you why.” I explained sheepishly.   
“But you're here. You’re still alive, miraculously might I add. Not that it wasn’t close, I mean, you nearly gave me a heart attack, Salroka- ”   
I recalled the hazy events after the final battle as I watched Solas running over to me. He did a few healing spells and I remembered mumbling an apology about the orb. He had just seemed so upset up by it being broken. After I apologized, Solas broke into tears, gently pressed a light kiss on my forehead.  
“I’m sorry too, Lethallin.” He stood and then left. I had initially thought he was going to get help, but far too long passed. I did my best to hold my intestines in my stomach as I crawled to the decrepit stairs. I began my descent, but the rock shifted and I rolled down the rest of the way. My whole body screamed in pain, my hand still clutched my abdomen, but a heavy flow of blood was seeping through the cracks between my fingers. I just laid there.   
“Boss! Oh fuck.” Iron Bull ran over, not even bothering to hide his concern. He placed a large hand on my shoulder then turned his head. “Kadan! Kadan! I found her!” Dorian’s blurry face emerged from behind a destroyed pillar. He sprinted towards us and dropped his knees at my side.  
“Hey, hey, you’re going to be fine.” Dorian ordered. My eyelids had felt so heavy. “No! Don’t you dare go to sleep - I mean how could you when you have such a handsome face to admire.” His tone didn’t sound as playful as most of his vanity jokes. He was busy muttering spell after spell. Both Iron Bull and Dorian were trying so hard to keep me awake. “You can’t close your eyes yet, your dashing writer is here!” Dorian pleaded, his voice starting to crack. He went back to start from the top of his list of healing spells. Someone started screaming or crying. Or both. Iron Bull left I think. Maybe to get help? Two things that stood out the most was the unbearable sharp pain of my wound and the look on Varric’s face. I couldn’t recall such terror in his expression before not even when looking at red lyrium. It occured to me that I was the one screaming before everything went dark.   
“Salroka!? Hey, can you hear me?” Varric expressed a similar expression, but I was on the ground in a different position. My bare legs pressed in the frozen ground one arm was clutching Andraste’s cold statue. My other hand, Varric held tightly in his warm callused, comforting hands. My breathing was jagged and uneven. “You’re okay right now. You’re at Skyhold. In the courtyard. You’re okay.” I worked to control my breathing. Varric waited and when I seemed stable, he offered a hug. I nodded my consent and he proceeded with a soft embrace. He helped me to my feet as the wound on my abdomen cried in pain. Varric kept eyeing me, probably fearful I’d just collapse again at any second.   
We stood in silence for sometime. Varric craned his neck. I didn’t really know why? Maybe to see if any stars could be seen through the clouds? If that had been why, he was out of luck as only the moon appeared to be visible against the inky grey sky. His blond hair was now peppered with little snowflakes.   
“You defeated Corypheus and live to tell of it. Thedas didn’t fall because of you. Not that there isn’t a lot of clean up, but sending troops to rebuild would be the least of our problems had you not killed him. You’re a hero, Salroka. And unlike many you're a hero that gets to grow old. Preferably with a successful writer.” He said. “How are you holding up?”   
I sighed trying to find the right way to articulate what I was feeling. Why was it so hard to just put it into words? I seemed to be able to feel it easily enough. Whatever ‘it’ was. Varric was right though. I defeated Corypheus for good with minimal casualties. I killed him with a regular old sword, not Andraste, but he was dead. For good this time. Everyone was celebrating and happy. I had no right to be upset. But here I was, punching monuments.   
“I was just, I was so ready. I could see myself as stone. I was ready to be stone. I was so prepared to die… I don’t-I don’t know if I even remember how to live?” I whispered, choking back the tears that welled in my eyes and burned my throat when I tried to swallow them. Varric pulled me close. I buried my face in his shoulder as he held me tight.   
“That’s okay, Salroka. It’s okay, we’ll just have to jog your memory. That’s all.” We stayed entwined, while the snow descended quietly. The night felt still. Varric was warm, comforting, and familiar. I lingered in the feeling of his arms around me. Taking in his scent of fresh parchment paper, ink, and cinnamon that lingered on his clothes. Drinking in feeling I had been so frightened to lose. When finally we parted, he cupped my cheek in his hand then pressed a soft kiss to my lips that tasted vaguely of the sweet ale. I grinned.   
“I think...I think that really helps me remember,” Varric let out a beautiful laugh.   
“Does it now?” He grinned, his forehead pressing against mine.  
“Definitely,”   
“Good to know.” He hummed, pressing his lips against mine once more, before helping me towards the Tavern. He seemed to sense I had little desire to be alone at the current.   
The warmth of a cheery fire and the smell of fermentation welcomed us in the Tavern. Iron Bull, Sera, and Dorian sat at a table playing cards. Sera appeared to be in a fit of giggles while Iron Bull angrily threw his cards down. Dorian smirked deviously and scooped a large pile of coins towards his own impressive stack.   
“What’s this? Out of bed when we’re not supposed to be once again?” Dorian tsked. I very maturely stuck out my tongue at him causing Sera to lose it again.   
“C’mon, Sparkler. Some Wicked Grace might do her some good.”   
“No, no, no. Playing against you is bad enough, add her and you have a partner in cheating!” Iron Bull protested, but only with a playful malice. Varric guided me to a chair.   
“I hear Lady Ambassador Priss is going to have some important idiot around later. What do you think would be the best way to greet him?” Sera asked as Varric delt out a freshly shuffled deck.   
“I’m thinking…. pies,” I smiled. It wasn’t easy. It felt more like stretching dried leather, but I did it successfully. The table let out a hearty chuckle that somehow felt warmer than the fire in the hearth. The laughter made my smile losen. For a moment, I felt okay. Happy even as we joked and laughed, and began a game.   
I’d be lying if I said I no longer thought about the stone statue in the courtyard.  
I did and often. I would have to learn to lean on those around me for support. Varric, my Salroka, my love, the one at my side. Iron Bull, Sera, Dorian, My friends. Part of the family I had unintentionally built throughout my task to defeat Corypheus. Though it hurt Solas was no longer wanted to be a part of it, I still had so many people who I cared for and who cared for me. This family that would help me with or through any and everything. This family that made me want to get up out of bed every morning. It wasn’t going to be easy and some days it’ll end up feeling like trudging knee deep through molasses. But it didn’t matter, because by the end of the round I had already made a final decision.   
I was going to remember how to live again.


End file.
